


get a taste in my mouth

by tosca1390



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Start small</i>, Sahara thinks. </p>
<p>Or, five foods Kaleb deigns to eat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get a taste in my mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> Written for the [Winter Book Ficathon](http://empressearwig.livejournal.com/654297.html).
> 
> For the lovely Jordan.

*

{1}

_Start small_ , Sahara thinks. 

She stands in the beautiful wide kitchen, a dream of hers from so long ago recreated in the smallest of details by a man who knows her through and through, and plants her hands on her hips. She, with Tammy’s instruction, has decided to learn how to cook. Tonight, she is making dinner for Kaleb, as something of a surprise. 

What to make, though, is the question. 

Wetting her lips, she drums her fingers on her hipbones as she surveys the pantry, the refrigerator. In the end, she settles for pasta tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and tomatoes. Parmesan cheese tossed on top is as wild as she gets. 

Kaleb comes home to two places set at the island in the kitchen, two plates of simple, warm pasta waiting. 

“Food,” he says, glancing at her as he shrugs off his suit jacket. Black-on-black suits him, deadly and dark.

She smiles and sits, patting the chair next to her. “Try it,” she coaxes, sipping her water. 

He does. The black and gold bond between them shivers with thanks, though he says nothing. 

He finishes the plate, though. She counts it as a win. 

{2}

“Bland, huh?”

Sahara nods at Tammy, sitting comfortably in the DarkRiver healer’s kitchen. The twins are outside playing with Vaughn. Faith, lingering at the doorway of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee, laughs that sweet low sound of hers. 

“Very bland.”

“What has he tried?” Faith asks, masking her smile terribly.

Wrinkling her nose, Sahara sticks her tongue out at her cousin. “Pasta. With olive oil.”

“And?” Tammy asks, dark eyes soft and bright in the sunny afternoon light. 

Sahara sighs and lifts up her hands in a kind of supplication. He ate it, but he hadn’t – well. She knows when Kaleb _likes_ things, and he didn’t have an opinion either way. That wasn’t good enough for her. 

“Sounds like Sascha once upon a time,” Tammy murmurs. 

“What about me?” Faith asks, an affronted tone to her voice. But her smile is true, eyes shining. 

“You were gone the minute you decided on Vaughn. That man doesn’t settle for bland,” Tammy retorts affectionately. 

Faith’s lips curl into a wonderfully knowing smile, and Sahara can barely contain her laughter. 

“Try beans,” Tammy says after a moment, running a hand through dark curls. 

Sahara tilts her head. “Beans?” 

“Lima beans, maybe. They’re bland but nutritious,” Tammy adds. 

“Seems right up Kaleb’s alley,” Faith teases, and Sahara sticks her tongue out at her yet again, grateful for the playful release. 

That evening, Sahara procures lima beans – a strange name, ill-fitting, she thinks. They are pale green and smooth to the touch, and she boils them first before warming them in a pan with butter and salt. She has them ready and waiting when Kaleb comes home, and watches as he eats them. 

He devours them, and she can feel the pleasure thrumming between them, that shining bond that means they’re never alone from each other. 

{3}

Rhubarb is disgusting. 

Sahara feels fairly adamant on this point, and she has Mercy and Sienna to back her up on this. 

Somehow, Kaleb gets it into his head that he likes it. So, with a sigh, Sahara procures some, and with a little guidance from Tammy, makes a strawberry-rhubarb tart for his birthday. Just the right amount of sweet and tart, with a smooth buttery crust. Less strawberry, more rhubarb. Utterly strange, but it is his birthday. 

She is just placing the candle right in the center of the tart when he appears in front of her, arms already halfway through his suit jacket. 

“Oh,” she says, pouting slightly. She leans away from the counter, smoothing her hands over the pale yellow silk of her dress. “You were supposed to warn me.”

Kaleb seems to freeze for a moment, dark eyes fixed on her inexorably. His jaw tightens. 

“Kaleb,” she says softly, reaching out mentally. She sends a pulse of love and affection down the bond. 

“What is this for?” he asks, voice low. 

Blinking, she rests her hands on the counter. “Happy Birthday,” she says quietly, smiling. 

A shudder travels down the bond. He is at her side in a moment, gathering her in his tightly-corded arms and hauling her up for a kiss, brutal and warm. She opens her mouth under his and digs her fingers into his shoulders, sliding against him in her silk and skin. 

“It’s rhubarb,” she breathes against his mouth, blood flushing her skin. 

_Later_ , he tells her, as they sink to the tiled kitchen floor. 

Later does arrive, and he likes it. They share the tart in their bed, and he eats nearly all of it. She smiles, painfully happy. 

{4}

Farmer’s markets are a new favorite discovery of Sahara’s. 

She likes to walk amongst the crowds, among the families and couples with their arms full of fruits and vegetables, in rain and sun. The produce is gleaming and vibrantly colorful in their baskets and crates, the producers always so proud of their crops and wares. She fills her arms with different foods from all parts of the world, and brings it all home to make fresh summer salads. Her favorite is a cucumber-tomato-corn salad, with white wine vinegar and olive oil. She makes it for a week, eats it for every meal. 

One day, for Kaleb, she makes an eggplant dish, roasted in the oven with just salt and pepper and olive oil. The purple skin curls over the soft flesh, and she likes the look of it. Simple and lovely. 

“This is good,” he says as he eats it. They sit on the terrace on these summer evenings, soaking in the day’s warmth as the sun lingers on the horizon. 

She leans her head against his knees and smiles up at him, bright and wonderful. The love she has for him, it is endless. Just as endless as her attempts to make him eat, and his game tries to do so. 

She tells him that, and he just smiles that half-smile, and runs a hand through her loose hair. 

{5}

_I found it,_ she tells him as she bustles around the kitchen, early morning sun inching across the tiles under her bare feet. 

For once, she is up before him. Here, she can ensure he eats something other than those damned nutrition bars. She pulls a plate from the cabinet and begins to prepare his breakfast, a heavy knife in her hand. 

_Found what?_ he asks, and even his mental voice is hoarse with sleep. He is still upstairs, hopefully resting. The weight of responsibility on him – on them both – has only increased. She worries for him because it is her right and pleasure to do so. 

_Your perfect food,_ she replies, coating her words with warmth and love. 

He comes downstairs in moments, taking her in from the kitchen doorway. In an old t-shirt of his and nothing else, she smiles at him and pushes the prepared plate towards him. 

“What is this?” he asks, though she is perfectly aware that he knows. Kaleb knows many things. 

“Grapefruit,” she says, leaning on her elbows on the counter as he sits opposite her. 

He picks up his spoon and eyes the grapefruit. “An interesting name.”

“Try it,” she coaxes. 

His spoon sinks into the sugar-sprinkled flesh, ruby-red and wet with juice. She watches as he brings the spoonful to his mouth and takes it in. No frisson of too tart or too sweet crosses his face. Instead, she feels a sense of satisfaction from his side of the bond. Her heart soars with it. 

“It is… it is perfect,” he says at last, meeting her eyes. 

Grinning, she leans over to kiss his juice-speckled mouth. “Eat all of it,” she orders, stroking a hand through his dark hair. 

He cups her cheeks with his free hand, keeping her near for another kiss. “Anything for you, Sahara.”

She loves him so much it overwhelms her, it shakes her to the core. Shaking her head, she kisses him once more and leans away, shifting to prepare her own breakfast. _All of it,_ she reminds him mentally, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

He eats every bite. 

*


End file.
